


Feeding the demons

by Ishbella



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Long-Term Relationship(s), Nightmares, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishbella/pseuds/Ishbella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen has more lyrium withdrawals and the inquisitor comforts him. in his nightmares he remembers what happened at ferelden. </p><p>the inquisitor also has nightmares, these ones occur because she was so worried about cullen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeding the demons

Today his lyrium withdrawals were so bad he had fallen down his ladder when a sudden tremor took him, it had taken every effort just to get his armour buckled on when he woke up; his ingrained Ferelden stubbornness preventing him from just going back to bed without at least attempting to get any work done, and there was a lot of it. Piles of unread reports littered his desk, reports from scouting parties, guard rosters, craftsmen reports, intelligence details provided by Leliana, at least one personal letter from his family and a few complaints from Val Royeaux. Between Kiraka’s temper and Cassandra’s he was surprised anyone in Val Royeaux still had any teeth.

He sat at his desk, clutching his pounding head in his hands, with the room spinning and shifting like the damned boat he had been forced to take from Kirkwall when he joined the inquisition; resigned to the knowledge that his inquisitor was probably going to kill him for his stubbornness. He would have gone back to his bed to avoid her wrath, once he realized how bad his withdrawals were and that they were going to prevent him from even the simplest duty; if he had confidence that he could get back up that damned ladder but considering he could barely stand for the shaking and holding a quill was completely out of the question, he knew it was a pipe dream. He had already sent a runner to Cassandra to ask her to take over his morning drills and had grown angry with her when she offered to send for the Inquisitor.

He really didn’t want her to see him like this, he was unfortunately resigned to it, but dread curled in his stomach making him even more nauseous. Why couldn’t this happen when she was away and he need never mention it, he wondered resting his head on the cool wooden surface.

He didn’t know how long he sat like that with his head on his cool desk but he looked up when he heard his door open, it was the one she usually used that led through the great hall. She had come with two soldiers he recognized as the guards he had assigned to the great hall for the morning. Her face was shuttered but he could see concern in her eyes, concern and just a touch of anger.

“Take the commander up to my room and assist him with removing his armour” she ordered, her voice was barely above a whisper but no one could possibly have missed it. It crackled through the air like lightning.

“Yes, Your Worship” he watched numbly as his soldiers saluted her. They walked over to him and pulled him to his feet, one put a shoulder under his arm to help him walk roughly he shook the man off he would walk; his dignity demanded it.

“I will be along shortly. I’ll have Cassandra come up here and begin work on this mess.” She said disapproval heavy in her voice as she looked at the state of his desk. Dimly he thought he heard her mutter something about Fereldens under her breath as the men escorted him out of his empty office.

    _________________________________

He considered himself lucky that it was still too early for most of the nobles who had come to Skyhold to be awake yet; normally he would have thought it too early for the Inquisitor to be awake since she usually slept in fairly late and clearly Cassandra had ignored him and sent for her knowing she would be able to bully him into taking a break.

The soldiers had to help him up the stairs when he began to stumble. Only the top floor of the tower had been repaired so far. The carpeting on the steps was worn and fraying, catching his foot every few steps and causing him to trip. They spiraled up which was doing nothing for his dizziness. Dimly he noticed the wall hangings on the walls, they were Templar in origin; red with a white circle displaying the sword of mercy. He would need to have them replaced. Scaffolding lined the walls hinting at future renovations.  
  
Finally he made it through the heavy wooden door that marked the beginning of her room. Josephine had showed it to him the day before Kiraka arrived back from Skyhold asking for his opinions. It was a grand room, the fire was stoked and happily popping away bringing warmth to what he knew was a cold room. All the doors to the balconies were closed, the early morning sunlight shining through the stained glass reflecting the many colours onto the deep green rugs that littered the floor.

As beautiful as the room was he saw nothing in it yet that spoke of her personality. It made the room feel a little lonely, like it belonged to someone else.

Taking his armour off was a pain in the ass. His hands shook so much the buckles were hard to hold on to. Strong silent hands came up to help him, the soldiers understood armour and were efficient at removing it. Their discipline caused them to neatly lay it out by the couch near the fireplace, even taking his leathers off was a challenge and again hands came up to help him pull the heavy shirt over his head before it was neatly folded and put with his overcoat and vest. He pulled his gloves off thankful that was something he could do for himself and unsteadily sat on the couch next to his bundle of clothing to remove his boots.

“You’re dismissed” he said, thoroughly fed up with the help, more so because he had needed it.

“Yes Ser” came a unison of voices and the sound of a salute, gloved fists banging on heavy platemail chest pieces. He listened as they marched down the stairs and heard the click of the door being closed.

He sat for a few minutes as another tremor took him the painful muscle spasms wracking his body. He clenched his teeth and rode the pain out barely suppressing the grunt of pain that fought to escape his throat. When he was sure the tremor was over he gingerly stood up, carefully testing the steadiness of his legs before making his way over to the bed.

It was a huge four posted thing of free marcher design. The matching green drapes tied neatly to the poles with gold velvet ribbons. He sat on the edge of the bed and flopped back onto the heavy blankets. He was disappointed to realise that the bed didn’t smell like her yet, not really. He only caught the vaguest scent of her lavender soap on the blankets, if he was being fair she had only just started using the room as her own.

He sat up when he heard the door at the bottom of the stairs open, the sound of familiar footsteps fell on the carpeted stairway. He watched quietly as he blonde head appeared between the railings. When she entered the room she looked at his pile of clothing and then looked at her bed where he sat. Waiting.

He noticed she was carrying two little bottles in her hand, one was red in a colour he dimly recognised and the other was bright yellow, the colour of marigolds. It had been a while since he had seen her go anywhere with potions in hand. She had never made any in her time at haven instead allowing Adan to make what she needed.

“Cullen I meant for you to get into the bed. Not lie half on it” she said exasperated. “I’ve brought you a headache potion and something for your nausea” she held up each bottle as she mentioned them. Her voice was calm and soothing, all her annoyance with finding him sick gone. She walked briskly over to the bed and handed him the red bottle and watched carefully as he downed it. It tasted nostalgic, the bitter taste of elfroot lingering in his mouth. She handed him the yellow one and watched as he downed that too, just daring him to refuse the medication. He couldn’t imagine her ever drinking this potion, the sharp moldy taste of deep mushrooms lingered on his tongue, he knew he wouldn’t be able to kiss her until the taste was gone from his mouth.

He had heard from Dorian how much she hated deep mushrooms and yet she had persisted in bringing back bags of the glowing blue things to Skyhold because they were useful. Cole had let slip her feelings about them as well and also the fact that just picking them or thinking about them made her sick. He had been informed that after eating that cake in Orlais she had vomited until nothing else came up into a near by garden. He looked at her, willing his head to clear enough to see her with clarity. She did look a little pale now and she felt a little green around the edges, they made her sick and she had still made him something to make him feel better. Andraste’s mercy what had he done to deserve such a woman, he thought.

“You should feel better once they hit your system. I’m having one of the servants bring up some food and drink for later when you feel up to it. Just lie back and rest, you’ve been working yourself to death again getting Skyhold up to standard” her tone was slightly scolding but very gentle as she brought her head down to rest it against his hair.

She helped him get into her bed under the blankets, he could smell more of her on the sheets. She folded her extra blankets down to the end of the bed ready to be pulled up if he needed them. At first he was dismayed to think that she wasn’t going to sit with him this time when she crossed over to get a book from one of the neat piles near her desk. He felt childish to be disappointed over such a small thing, but now that she was here he wanted her near him. He was ashamed of how relieved he felt when she walked to the other side of the bed with her book in hand, placing the book on the bedside table she began to take her boots off. For once she was relatively warm when she slipped into the bed next to him.

For a while she simply held him as he trembled, another wave of pain making his muscles spasm and feel like they were on fire. She whispered little things to him, that he was safe, he would get through this, she was there for him but not the three little words he still wanted. The little words he couldn’t offer her yet out of fear of spoiling something important, putting too much burden on her. Yet he wanted them from her so very badly, this would all be worth it if she loved him.

She curled her body around him, her legs twined with him almost as if she was trying to anchor him. Once the worst of it was over and he relaxed she began to sing, softly her voice gentle almost a whisper in his ear. As the medicine slowly took hold he felt a wave of unexpected drowsiness take him, he hadn’t been sleeping properly lately. He tended to have less nightmares when she shared his bed but she couldn’t always share his bed, it was still inappropriate since their relationship had not progressed to that level of commitment. Even though it was a month old now he hadn’t seen her for most of that time, maker he had missed her so much. Before he slipped into his dreams his last pleasant thought was of her.

_He knelt in a purple sphere that hummed malevolently, a prison he couldn’t escape, bleeding from wounds cut through his armour, wounds that had been made to hurt not to kill. Surrounded by the desecrated bodies of his friends, the friends he had been forced to watch die one by one as they gave into the demon. Screaming in agony as she tore them apart piece by slow agonizing piece savoring every last bit of the torment she inflicted. Their entrails and blood covering the walls, covering him until he was the only one left. Left to the knowledge that he had been abandoned, by his Commander; expendable, unwanted, unneeded. Abandoned by the woman he had loved, she had fought to stay in the circle he knew but it hadn’t been for him and in the end she had left for the grey wardens with nothing more than a backwards glance at him. She had never wanted him anyway, never once returned anything he might have taken as mutual feelings, not that he would have ever taken her up on it with the power imbalance between them but still. Discarded, trash, nothing. Unwanted. Not good enough._

_He was nothing, just the next in the long line of corpses and for what; a mage gone insane, drunk on blood magic. He had trusted them, wanted to helped them, loved one of them and where had it gotten him. Here. On his knees praying for the maker to guide him as he watched his friends die, as he watched that thing dangle the image of the woman he wanted in front of him to break him as she had the others. Sometimes she said she loved him, wanted him, hated him, cursed him and sometimes he had to watch as the image was violated again and again as the cruel voice laughed as he cried, as he prayed. Other times it violated him, everywhere and in every sick way possible, drawing frenzied delight from his screams as it hurt him over and over again just because it could._

_He was alone. Abandoned. Surrounded by death and blood. Screams not his own echoed down from the floor above as those he could not see were also tortured. He saw new abominations leave its door and head out into the tower. The tower he had once called home. The home that had abandoned him._  
  
_he would not break as the others had. He would die whole and unpossessed. He would...._

“Cullen” he heard dimly. The voice echoed inside him. It sounded safe.

“No, you will not have me” he heard his voice mutter, as he had countless times.

“Cullen. You’re safe, this is Skyhold” the voice was kind, familiar, safe.

Groggily and struggling he opened his eyes as a gentle hand touched his face. His eyes were watery, her face appeared as if it was underwater. She continued to stroke his face, brushing away the tears he knew had slid down his face. “Your safe, sweetheart. You’re safe.” she said in her soft husky voice as she pressed a loving kiss to his forehead.

He wouldn’t tell her about the dream, about the memory, couldn’t bring himself to tell her about it yet. He had never told anyone, never told anyone how broken he was. The words filled his throat like broken glass, all he could do was put one arm around her waist and draw her to him as he buried his face into her shoulder. She stroked his hair and cooed reassurances in his ear, like he was something precious, wanted, loved. Slowly he drifted back into sleep, the feel of her warmth all around him.

______________________

The only thing she had been able to do for him was to wake him from his nightmare. He had cried out in his sleep, fighting off a terror only he could see. All the while crying that he had been abandoned that he was nothing. It had broken her heart.

She had pushed the tears back and called him from his nightmare, reassuring him as best she could that he was safe as she wiped away his tears. He had clutched at her, like he was afraid she would slip away and leave him alone. Eventually he had calmed and fallen back to sleep, this time it had appeared to be a quiet dreamless sleep. She had continued to hold him, reassure him that he was wanted, needed. She had stayed with him like that all day dozing in and out of sleep beside him.

When he finally woke it was late evening. The first words out his mouth had been I’m sorry, she had never wanted to slap him so much before; instead she had peppered kisses over his face, telling him again that everything was alright. Trying to show him as best she could that she loved him, valued him and needed him. That he was important.

She had made him eat and drink before coaxing him back to bed for more sleep, he still looked like he needed it. He had protested but she had overruled him and grudgingly he had come back and wrapped his arms around her. They had lay together arm in arm in comfortable silence both dozing slightly before finally falling asleep again. Giving a silent prayer to the maker that he would be feeling better tomorrow, that he would be able to move on one day from the terrors that had happened to him.

_____________________________________

_The hall was large, at the back near the dias Dorian hummed with magic, pointing his staff at a necklace suspending it in the air as it filled the room with a crackling blue light. Outside the door in front of her she heard battle, the screaming voice of the dying. Unseen sword strikes ending their lives in what she knew was a shower of blood. Part of her mind screamed “this isn’t how it happened” as she felt herself shift and conjure fire._

_A bang shook the door in front of her. Cracks trailed outward along the walls causing a cascade of stone chips as the mortar came loose. Another bang shook the ground under her feet causing her to stumble back a few steps. The third one blasted the doors nearly off the hinges, wood splintering outwards as they hit the walls and hung off an unbroken hinge. Demons and Venatori flooded the room._

_Raising her hands in front of her she sent out a jet of hot flames from her fingertips. The smell of burning filled the air, bringing memories of roast pork. Men screamed as their robes caught fire, falling onto the stone to beat them out. Arches of her lightning followed the fire, bodies hitting the floor with dull lifeless thumps._

_A sudden roar, it was loud and metallic, bloodthirsty and mad. A shield hit her barrier sending her flying across the hall to skid a few feet on the stone, her cry of pain as the skin was ripped from her back like a man being flogged. She pulls herself to her feet, blood running down her legs from her back in long rivets, pain worse than dragons fire and looks at her attacker._

_What she can see of his hair is blonde, familiar and curly. Tousled and uncared for. His handsome face is red but not from an adorable blush. Red veins of lyrium pulse under the skin giving it a red tinge, the rugged scar a white stark contrast. Lips curled in a sneer that holds no warmth. His honey eyes, golden in joy or darkened in anger are full of disdain, they match the smile hand in hand like lovers. ‘Cullen’ she whispers putting a hand over her mouth. What have they done to you, she wonders horrified._

_“Ah my lady Trevelyan how good of you to finally come” he sneers, his steps forward are menacing as he raises his shield. “You abandoned us. Ran away. Filthy mage, to think I cared for you.” his eyes hold only contempt. Bile rises in her throat bringing a lump of emotion that can’t be moved. He laughs, it’s cruel and guttural. “How could I ever care for a mage, you’re filth. You need to be killed for the good of all”_

_“Mages can’t be trusted. You’re cowardly, evil, full of sin. I thought you cared but I was never anything to you. You said that to me once didn’t you? The words straight out of your mouth.” he threw at her. It pierced her heart like shards of ice. The words she hadn’t been able to take back, she had flung them in anger. “The elder one didn’t abandon me. This worlds new god, he promised me your blood.” he smiled at her but there was no warmth in it. “He said I could have you before I killed you”_

_She felt guilt rise up. He was right to think she had abandoned him, it wasn’t her fault but he had a year to build up the bitterness. Nothing she could say would make this right. She needed to get back, needed to fix it. A quick look back told her Dorian wasn’t ready._

_When he charged at her she was ready this time, she stepped aside to dodge his sword strike she wasn’t quick enough because it bit into her arm, just a scratch. Blood slickened her hand. A blast of magic threw him back._

_The battle raged between them, him trying to kill her and her trying not to kill him. Wounds littered her body, blood pouring out of them like water from a hole in bucket. Her vision was getting foggy, she was going to die, she would die and she would never see him again. Hold him, never be able to kiss him. Rage wells up, this isn’t her Cullen, this is the Cullen that will happen if she dies here. He will believe she abandoned him, that he had never meant anything to her. Her hands moved on their own as her mind screamed. A shard of ice ripped through his chest, she could see the wall on the other side. Blood filled the empty space like a waterfall as he stared at her stunned for a moment before collapsing to his knees, the lyrium growing out of them shattering across the stones. “I knew you didn’t care for me, never cared” he grunted breaking her heart as he fell forwards onto the stone. She had killed another man she loved._

Kiraka bolted upright on the bed screaming, her vision watery. Her throat was choked with regret, guilt and fear, it dug in like glass. Choking, gasping for air she looked around the room. This was Skyhold, late morning light streamed through the closed glass doors, coloured pictures danced on the thick carpets. She was safe, it was just a nightmare. She looked to her side and found that the side of the bed that had been occupied by Cullen was empty, the blankets neatly drawn up.

She needed a bath, a bath to wash the blood away. She knew she wasn’t actually covered in blood but she felt like she was.

  
_________________________________

An hour later she was clean and dressed, the shakiness from the nightmare slowly wearing off as the horror of it dimmed slightly. She needed to see him, to confirm to herself that he was whole and well, feeling better from yesterday and most importantly not red.

Her hand lingered on his door as sudden fear swamped her, trying to draw her in like the mud in the fallow marsh. Her fear was foolish, she knew he would be the same; just her normal overworked Commander.

“They like you. They like you both. The dreams feed them like gluttons. He is safe, he tests the chains but here is no red in the song” came the voice of Cole startling a squeak out of her. She leant back into the warm body she knew was there for a moment. “No red, no hole, no hate. He is safe.”

“Thank you, Cole” she said as she moved away from him, her hand hadn’t let the door. At his reassurance she took a deep breath and pushed it open. He looked up at the sound, his eyes filling with uncertainty and worry but there was no red, no lyrium pulsing under his skin.

“Good morning. Are you feeling better today?” she said as she walked into the cold room, she was unsure at the moment if his office was really cold or if it was a lingering feeling from her dream. She could feel the slight tremor in her voice and hear a note of relief.

“Yes, thank you. Much better today” he answered softly his voice full of worry and hesitation. She watched as he came out from behind his desk and walked towards her, the uncertainty in his face was now replaced by concern. “I’m sorry I worried you” he said softly as he reached for her putting both hands on her shoulders and rubbing down her arms.

She could feel traces of his warmth in his gloves, could hear it in his voice. The kindness in his beautiful eyes dispelling the last remnants of the dream, he was him. Blissfully, wonderfully him. She cupped his face in her hands, he flinched at the initial coldness and rested her forehead against his with a sigh.

“You can let me worry about you a little” she laughed as she stroked his jaw line, reveling in his closeness.

His first kiss was barely a whisper across her lips, she could smell his clean breath it smelt slightly of tea. His arms wrapped around her waist drawing her in as he kissed her again, this time his tongue came out to run along her lower lip as he kissed it, she parted her lips for him needing more of him. More reassurance that he was alright. “Are you alright?” he asked when he broke the kiss resting his head against hers.

“Yes” it wasn’t a lie anymore. “Yes I’m perfectly fine” she repeated her hands stoking his stubble again. Her dream was not forgotten but she really was fine now.


End file.
